Impressed
by WeasleyLuvr
Summary: R/Hr Fluffyness. . Ron comes in from Quidditch Practice and asks Hermione a question. General Fluffyness abounds


I sat on the floor in front of the fireplace in the common room, a giant book and various pieces of parchment in my lap. I had a ton of homework still to do. Actually, it wasn't due until next week, but it is always good to be ahead. It had been so cold in the library that I had feared my ink would freeze. The common room, with its warm fire, was much more suitable for work.

I was proofreading my History of Magic essay when the portrait swung open and Harry, Ron and the rest of the Quidditch team came barging in, their faces still red from the cold. Harry headed up stairs after giving me a quick wave, but Ron saw me sitting on the floor and came over.

"Ugh." Ron said as he dropped onto the couch behind me.

"Rough practice? I asked not looking up from my books.

"Yeah. I forgot my gloves and I think my hands practically froze to my broom, it was so cold." 

He put his hands under my hair and touched the back of my neck. I jumped at the sudden coldness, sending my parchment into the air.

"Ron!" I screamed.

"Sorry," he laughed.

I got up off the floor and sat next to him on the couch. I rubbed my own hands together vigorously and then silently took his hands into mine. He let out an almost inaudible sigh.

"Better?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah," he said with a smile.

We sat for a few minutes, his hands warming in mine.

"Where is your wand? How did you do that without a warming charm?" he asked after his hands were successfully warmed.

"Body heat. You know, I did get along for a good eleven years without magic. I still remember how to do stuff without it." I smiled at him.

"I know." He said putting his arm around me. "Sometimes I forget you were muggle born."

I looked up at him. The redness caused by the cold had almost vanished, but now a different, familiar shade of red had spread across his face. His expression was one of mixed embarrassment and horror.

"Hermione, I didn't...I mean, I-" 

"It's alright, Ron," I said, cutting him off. "I should probably take it as a compliment."

I leaned my head into him and sighed.

"Hermione?" he asked quietly. "Before you got your Hogwarts letter, did you know you were a witch? I mean, I always knew I was a wizard because my whole family is, but you . . ." He trailed off.

"Well, I didn't exactly know I was a witch." I said, tilting my head to look up at him. "But I did know I was special."

"So you did?"

"Yes, there was this one time when I was in primary school . . ." 

__

"Ms. Scott, Hermione is reading a book," annoying little Alice Warren told our teacher.

"Miss Granger, we are not reading books right now. We are coloring our autumn leaves."

"But Ms. Scott, wouldn't you rather I read about why the autumn leaves fall rather than just color a picture of them?" I asked in my most grown up voice.

I hated coloring. I saw no point in it. Five-year-olds colored because they couldn't read yet, but I was seven. I could read, so I felt I should. And Alice Warren was always telling on me. Drat that girl. 

__

"No, Miss Granger. The whole class is coloring. You are part of this class, so you should be coloring."

"Yes, Ma'am." I put my book down and glared at Alice.

She smiled smugly.

Several more times that day Alice tattled on me. By the time it was time to go home I was furious with her.

"Ms. Scott, Hermione put one of the class library books in her rucksack."

"Alice, you are such_ a tattletale!" I screamed. And the next thing I knew Alice was running around the room screaming. Somehow she had grown a tail._

I knew I had done it. I knew I had made her grow a tail. I didn't tell anyone. I had been thinking about it all day. Over and over in my head, every time she tattled, I'd say to myself: "Tattle, moan, cry and wail. I want Alice to grow a tail."

That's when I knew I was special and not like the other kids at my school. Four years before I got my letter.

"You did a spell when you were seven? And you didn't even know you were a witch. I'm impressed," Ron told me, tightening his arm and kissing the top of my head.

I smiled. I may be at the top of our class, but the pride I feel for accomplishing that is not nearly as satisfying as the joy I still get from impressing my boyfriend. 


End file.
